


she's the absinthe on my lip

by forcynics



Series: vampire diaries ficathon fills [11]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, F/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-02
Updated: 2011-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 01:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6136152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forcynics/pseuds/forcynics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeremy doesn't know what to make of his feelings as he falls for Vicki, only knows that he wants her, needs her, everything that she is, whatever she is</p>
            </blockquote>





	she's the absinthe on my lip

  


 

He never stands a chance. She is a fire locked up behind worn eyes that have seen too much of the world – but so has he – and when she lures him in with the promise of taking away all his sadness, carving it out of him and offering escape, he feels something ignite in him too.

The first time he smokes a joint, she kisses him, and the two tastes mingle in his mouth.

She’s already high, and she laughs, dances away, but keeps her brown eyes locked with his, and he knows that he wants her, wants even more than the haze she’s showing him, wants everything she is – but he shouldn’t. He already knows how much life can screw you over, take away the things you care about.

 

 

 

 

Elena’s pills are easy to sneak; he feels his own sort of high when he shows them to Vicki. He likes that he’s the one giving her this, their getaway from all the shit the world’s thrown at them. He likes that he’s the reason she’s giddy and affectionate, _happier_ , more alive like this than without them.

She’s slowly drawing him in, against all the blaring alarms in his head telling him _nothing good could come of this_. She kisses him again, kisses him for the pills, and he disagrees with the alarms.

 

 

 

 

You lose and you take. His parents are gone, and Vicki is here, and he wants to take her, wants to fill up the space inside of him where _something_ is supposed to be, wants to fill it with her and her fire and the way her mouth feels soft against his.

She comes alive when she can leave a part of herself behind, but he wants all of her, everything. He winds his fingers into her hair when she kisses him, guides them stumbling back towards her bed, and they peel their clothing away, just like they shed away everything they don’t want to be. Her skin is warm, hot, burning somehow, and he burns up with her.

 

 

 

 

She explodes into his life, becomes _everything_ so quickly that it makes him blink, trying to understand but not caring for the reasons, only that she _is_ , only that he needs her. She hides behind smoke and mirrors, hazes of her own creation, and he tries to find his way through them, find _her_.

_I love you_ is always on the tip of his tongue; she’s always hiding too far away, too high, to hear the words if he spoke them.

Besides, he doesn’t know if he needs or loves, doesn’t know where the line is drawn or if there’s even a difference.

 

 

 

 

She’s captivating, damningly so, painfully so – sometimes the question becomes whether he loves her or hates her. Or maybe it’s somewhere in between, maybe it’s always somewhere in between, everything at once.

Maybe it’s not about love or hate or need. Maybe it’s simply _want_ , this girl that he’s wanted ever since she first glanced at him with that look in her eyes that tempted, promised so many things.

Vicki Donovan is nothing if not half-promises, half-truths, not fully anything; this is what he learns over and over and over.

 

 

 

 

The problem is that he wants so badly, decided from the beginning that he wanted and can’t let go, can’t lose anything else.

She doesn’t want anything, except maybe to escape, become that half-person that somewhere along the way became not enough. He wants _Vicki._

But sometimes he wonders if he even knows who that really is.


End file.
